Heart Swoop, Pulse Thud
by dazedream
Summary: <html><head></head>"The way he looked at her shook her somewhere deep inside, flipped her stomach, set a thousand angels free as she finally expelled the breath she had taken at the top of the stairs." - The pre-wedding scene in 4.6.</html>


**A/N This short one-shot came to me when I was skiing in Switzerland, halfway down a mountain. I promptly fell over, but the plotline for this story stuck and here it is! I'm sorry if I got the dialogue at the end wrong, I took it from the episode where Jenny got married and I didn't have Internet connection then so I had to write it from memory.**

**I might write another chapter if I get inspired but I think that might be unlikely since I have a multi-chap Becker/Jess fic going on at the moment and I try to update regularly for that. Sorry.**

Emily stared at her feet, encased in satin slippers. She knew she could put this off no longer. Bracing herself, she looked up at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

"Oh, my Lady Emily, you look stunning," cooed her maid, Annabelle. _Stuff you_, she thought with unjust anger. She didn't _feel_ stunning. She felt hot and itchy and out-of-place in this house that had once been her home. When she had looked up at the mirror, she had not braced herself for ugliness but for the unwanted beauty and the longing coos of her devoted maid.

Emily glanced back at the mirror, at the gorgeous woman wearing a dusky rose-pink dress with lovely dark curly hair who was staring at her with reproachful eyes.

"I'm ready," she said, and walked out of her spacious bedchamber with the irrational feeling that she was going to her own funeral.

Emily began to descend the sweeping staircase, feeling morbid. She walked as slowly as she could, a charming smile fastened to her lips. Feeling the eyes of everyone in the ballroom on her, the sighs of envy from the girls, the mutters of appreciation from the men, she had to suppress an ugly scowl twisting its way across her face.

Emily didn't want this. Not anymore.

In her teens, she had enjoyed people staring at her. She had welcomed, even _craved_, the attention. When she became older and hit her early twenties, it had been of use to her family in finding her a husband, and she had liked that, for she loved her father and had wanted to please him. At her wedding, she had liked it as well, loved the silky feel of her bridal dress against her skin, wanted to impress her husband. She had seen it all as such a big, fun adventure then.

She was no longer naïve, shallow. That night had changed everything, most of all who she was. She had met others like herself, and felt a small sensation of _belonging_ with them. She had lost so many friends, but none of the deaths had stung her like poor, poor Charlotte. She had come so close to death so many times, but none of them had stuck in her mind like when she was in 2011, and buried alive in the tomb of Charlotte's family. Matt had saved her then. He saved a lot of the time back then.

She had been here half a year. Six months. Twenty-six weeks. One hundred and eighty-one days. Four thousand, three hundred and forty four hours. Too many months, weeks, days, hours. Too many.

She hadn't belonged in 2011, but she didn't belong here either. _Far from it_, she silently scoffed. She had felt so much more…at _home_ when she had lived in Matt's apartment.

Something about the situation reminded her of Jenny's wedding, the moment when Matt had stared at her as she walked down the stairs. Emily had worn a much different dress them. It had been of the deepest blue, almost black, scandalously short and strapless (that notion had confused her initially). She had felt shy and confident, comfortable and uncomfortable, a million years and away from being new bride Lady Emily Merchant. In that precious instant, she had been just Emily.

The look on his face had been enough to shake Emily's world to its core, make her want to blush madly and feel like a teenager. He had looked at her, not as if she was some shiny trinket to be fought over and admired, but as if she was the only being in his universe. She had felt _beautiful_ under his gaze.

She had held Matt's eyes as she went down the stairs, feeling a secret thrill of excitement when his look followed her. He had offered her his arm in a way that made her feel as if she were in on some private joke. He had asked for her arm in such a _gentlemanly _way that she was not accustomed to. And when he said "Shall we?", it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to say "We shall."

She had taken his arm graciously, and the feel of their entwined arms had incensed such happiness in her, and she just had to look down and see the linked arms.

Emily glanced down and then she saw the look on Matt's face. It was quite a different one to the look of awe when she had glided down the staircase. Emily had been very confused. She looked in the direction of what had caused Matt's horror.

_Oh my._

Her wedding ring.

She had chosen that ring specially. Plain and gold, nothing she could ever get too attached to. It was symbolic, nothing else. Emily looked up in dismay.

"You're married."

"I didn't love my husband," she tried desperately. "I was wealthy, and he had a title. It was a perfect match."

"For everyone but you."

His sympathetic words had made Emily look up in hope, but it had been too late. The look on his face was proof of that. He had closed up to her again, so soon after opening up. His hard, cold mask was back in place and as the two of them proceeded onto the room where the ceremony would take place, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

_Fin_


End file.
